The Dementia Complex
by PyRo4
Summary: A British billionaire steals a prototype mind drug, and invades the Lower Elements. The LEP is forced to ally with Artemis Fowl yet again. Chapter 3 up! Please, don't make me crack a corny joke to attract your attention.
1. Default Chapter

The LEP Council was in shock. The Diggums case was supposed to have been a mere formality. But Diggums had surprised them all. Surprised many of them into inadvertent heart attacks, in fact.

Mulch Diggums, the kleptomaniacal, fifty-six time felony offender, thirteen time arson offender, and another felony offense as he entered the courtroom, had swaggered in, been found innocent on exactly fifty-six felony offenses thirteen arson offenses, and after further consideration, found innocent on another felony offense, and then swaggered back out.

All in less than half an hour. 

Commander Julius Root had exploded no less than three coronary blood vessels halfway in, and had to be removed to intensive heart care, his heart in danger of bursting in his chest.

Captain Holly Short had to be restrained, then disarmed, then handcuffed, and finally, sedated and removed.

Foaly, the centaur was laughing throughout the first few minutes, then abruptly began weeping uncontrollably as the rest of the case was presented. 

Mulch was laughing so hard a few bubbles of dwarven gas escaped, and blew a hole through his chair. Ignoring his ruined seat, he gasped hysterically until he finally passed out and had to be revived. 

The council was in uproar, but they had no other option. Mulch Diggums's case was as legally sound as any ever was. They stood together in a sort of stupefied daze, and pronounced him innocent(in stunned, dreamy voices) on all counts.

At this, Mulch gasped out a great 'HA!' of laughter, collapsed, and had to be revived again.

*          *          *          *          *

Mulch Diggums was a free dwarf. He had returned to his palatial apartment in Los Angeles, where he now lay on his bed, still laughing off the vestiges of hilarity from the trial. At one point during the tribunal, Mulch had stood up, slapped his bottom at Commander Root, and sparked the commander's final coronary.  He held that image in his head for as long as he could, then sighed. He would have to get his hands on some of the footage from the trial. 

But on to more serious things. 

Mulch had some deep, slightly moral thinking to do. 

His fingers unconsciously curled around the gold medallion he wore on his neck. In his callused palm, he held the key to limitless riches and power. But there was a terrible risk. Using it could release the Lower Element's most deadly enemy upon the unwitting fairy race. Even though Mulch had no conscience, a deed such as that could make him feel like he had one.

Then Mulch straightened, and attempted to stare at himself in astonishment. He was Mulch Diggums, the most immoral fairy in the Lower Elements. Certainly not a fairy one would expect to be contemplating ethics. 

At least, not when there were riches to be had.

*          *          *          *          *          *

Fowl Manor was imposing in any season. However, in midwinter, it was an impregnable fortress of stone, ice, and steel. Its barred iron gates and giant stone walls seemed to loom over anyone within fifty feet of it.

However, if one were to glimpse the interior of the manor, they would be much heartened.

It was December twenty-fourth, which meant many things. First, it was Christmas Eve, which meant Angeline Fowl would hosting a prestigious Christmas party for friends of the Fowl Family, and any visiting dignitaries that happened to be in town. Which meant she would dress Artemis in the family suit. Which meant many, many ruffles, and shoes with buckles on them. Which meant one very irritated Artemis Fowl, and one very amused Domovoi Butler.

"Mother, I refuse to wear this beastly excuse for a clown suit."

Angeline Fowl ignored him, busy with her preparations.

"Butler, shoot me. Yes, that's an order. In the head, please, so I don't have to look at myself when I die."

"That's a bit melodromatic, isn't it, Artemis? I think you look very pretty." Butler replied, smothering his laughter.

Artemis made a strangled noise, and reached for any sharp objects that may have been near. Unfortunately, there were none, and Artemis ended up with a handful of lace. He threw it away in disgust.

Normally, the young heir to the Fowl fortune was more dignified. However, tonight was not a normal situation. Tonight, dignity was for those who were not wearing shoes with buckles, big shiny ones, and ruffles. 

"Mother, you have to listen to reason. This is not dignified. This is not…humane."

"Artemis, be quiet. Your father wants you to wear it, so you are going to wear it. Besides, your uncle designed this suit himself, and he is one of the premier clothing designers in London."

"Oh, you mean Gaylord Fowl? The one who _commited suicide_?" Artemis inquired cuttingly.

"Mother, Father would incinerate this suit with his own hands if he ever happened to catch sight of it." 

Angeline didn't hear him, as she was already skipping down the stairs. Artemis stood at the top, and contemplated throwing himself over the edge. Reasoning with his mother was not going to work. He would have to use his intellect to get himself through this. 

He mentally stepped back, and reflected on his situation. He was dressed in clothes that would have caused hilarity in a blind man, about to go to a party and meet people he completely detested. A situation which, normally, Artemis would have engineered a means of avoiding.

Each year before this, Artemis had devised a brilliant excuse, or managed to be out of town. This year, however, his mind fired a blank. His excuse had been shoddy and ill timed, and now he was dressed in a clown suit about to endure social humiliation the likes of which have never before been seen upon this earth. 

He winced. There had to be some way out of this. There always was. 

Suddenly, a concept entered his mind, and he enjoyed the satisfying feeling that came upon formulation of a brilliant plan.

"Butler. Watch my mother and father, will you? I'm going to go change."

Butler knew what that meant. 'Watch' meant to discern patterns of movement, and detect areas of circumvention. Senior Fowl was circulating the multiple living rooms, and Angeline Fowl was lingering around the dining room area. 

Artemis returned, dressed in his customary Italian tuxedo and Gucci loafers. His right hand was thrust into his pocket, and his left hand grasped a pair of with which he was gingerly grasping the family suit. He withdrew an earpiece from his pocket, and grinned.

"Butler? Find me a child."

*          *          *          *          *          *

"Ok, now tell her that you like her dress."

"What?!"

"You like her dress."

"Damn you, Artemis."

"Tut, tut. Such language for a child."

Butler had hogtied his cousin from England into Artemis's scheme. It hadn't been difficult. Separate the child from his parents, then talk scary. Therian Fowl had snapped like a twig.

Consequentially, he was now downstairs, wearing the ridiculous family suit and spluttering indignantly at Artemis's directions. There was a wicked gleam in Artemis's eyes, and even Butler began to feel sorry for the cousin.

"Now, take her hand, and kiss it."

What followed was almost a full minute of unprintable obscenities, most of which involved Artemis and various barnyard animals in some extremely unlikely and physically mind boggling positions.

"Yes, yes. Very creative, Therian. Now do as I say."

More obscenity, of the barnyard animal type.

Artemis replaced the com set, and motioned to Butler.

"Let's go for a walk, Butler. He's getting annoying – and repetitive."

 Butler draped fur parkas over both of them, and they quietly exited through the back door. 

A foot of snow blanketed the ground, with another few inches forthcoming in the thick flakes swirling down from the sky. Aside from the dark, imposing walls of Fowl Manor, the entire street was brightly lit and amply decorated for the season. Frigid air rushed past them, rustling trees and bushes as it passed.

Artemis shivered slightly, but not from the cold. This was not the first of his nightly excursions, yet something about tonight seemed different. Anticipatory, almost.

He came to abrupt stop on a street corner, Butler halting with him. He voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Something is going to happen here, Butler. I know it."

Butler took this in stride. This was not the first time that Artemis's intellect had revealed insight bordering on the supernatural. With the highest tested IQ in Europe, his mind had an almost paranormal ability to race ahead and foresee events as they may have occurred, based on a few simple logical deductions. 

However, none of this affected Butler in the slightest. He performed his usual scan of the surrounding buildings for snipers, and watched the street for any cars with armed assailants. He even squinted into the night skies for potential threats. His large hands gripped his concealed Sig Sauers, hunting knives, sonic grenades, strangling wires, Glocks, proximity mines, Desert Eagles, and magnums instinctively. Three weeks ago, he had woken up, and felt the first vestiges of aging stealing over him. His breath came short and painful, and his combat effectiveness was greatly decreased. He compensated for this by carrying a great deal more weapons. He disliked this, being out in the open, but Artemis's wishes had to be obeyed. 

Artemis's nose twitched, and wrinkled in distaste. After the momentary discomfort, though, he realized something. There were no sewers nearby. This street was also one of the cleanest in Ireland. The scent had emerged suddenly, which could only mean the source was a living, breathing, human being.

However, for the second time in his life, Artemis was wrong.

Before Artemis could alert Butler, who was already sniffing the air like a deranged bloodhound, a small blur erupted from behind a cluster of bushes Butler had deemed secure. Butler was already aiming both Sig Sauers, but he paused in incredulous disbelief. The figure appeared to be opening a concealed back flap on its trousers, and then clutching its knees.

Artemis eyes widened in appalled disbelief.  It appeared to be preparing to launch some sort of missile from its nether regions, but that wasn't – 

Butler shoved Artemis out of the way, and for the second time in his life, was laid low by dwarven gas.

Artemis picked himself up dazedly, staring in horrified disbelief. His very capable bodyguard was lying unconscious on the ground, defeated by a – a - gastric expulsion? His mind was momentarily struck senseless by the extreme implausibility of his situation.

The creature was calmly buttoning its flap as if such a thing was a daily occurrence, and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction..

"Sorry you had to see that, but trying to hold in dwarf gas is like trying to plug a volcano with your pinky finger. Impossible, and exceptionally painful."

Then the creature noticed the fallen man-mountain.

"Whoops," was all it could say.

"Ah, he'll recover." The dwarf shrugged, and walked toward Artemis, grinning companionably. He began to withdraw something from his pockets.

"Don't move."

Artemis had picked up one of Butler's fallen Sig Sauers, and aimed it somewhat unsteadily at the dwarf.

"Blimey…you really don't remember me, do you? Foaly knows his stuff, but with a mind like yours, I thought – "

"Foaly? That name is – familiar…" Artemis frowned.

Quick as a flash, Mulch darted in a kicked away the gun. He backed away, his hands raised in peace.

"Sorry, Artemis. Talking with a gun in my face is…well, uncomfortable."

"I can tell you have a lot of questions. First, my name is Mulch Diggums. As for the rest of them, well, this may explain some things."

And he withdrew a medallion from his pocket.

*****

What do you think? My Mulch seems a bit off…=/


	2. Chapter titles are dumb

So…Finally more of the plot is revealed. I supposed I should start doing a disclaimer, although I really don't see the use. I own nothing - duh - blah blah blah, etc, etc, etc. 

Whatever.

Review if you read, and all that good stuff. Or else.

*growls menacingly*

**************************************                                                 

 _6 months earlier, The Huang He Complex - China                                                                  _

**************************************

_It was an accident_, the man thought. _Just an unlucky accident. _

John Chen, the lead scientist at the American-run Manson Technologies, was slumped over a cluttered computer terminal, a vial of translucent purple liquid clutched in his hand. Before him was a transparent glass panel. A bloody handprint was all that was visible, as the room behind was filling with clouds of poison gas.

John raised his head, and peered into the room, tears streaming down his face. 

The room's inhabitant was John's best friend, a man named Pete Nolan. 

*          *          *          *          *

They had discovered the substance together, stumbling upon it through a botched experiment. They contrived to synthesize the world's first non-addictive stimulant, but they discovered something much, much more. When injected into a nerve column, the substance would awaken a part of the mind they termed the Dementia Complex. Animal test subjects experienced exponentially increased strength and intelligence. In most cases, subjects appeared to have the ability to project their thoughts at will, and in a few cases, telekinetic power was observed. It didn't stop there, however. In all cases, strength and intelligence kept increasing even after dosages were halted. The potential of it was seemingly limitless.

There was but one side affect.

When awakened, the Dementia Complex would take control of the subject's brain after a few days, causing complete and total insanity. The subject's behavior ranged from suicidal to schizophrenic, from extreme aggression to complete mental breakdown. After many horrific failures, John pleaded with Pete to stop, but the pressure from Manson Technologies' higher ups was too great. They pushed the project ahead, and began human testing. Pete insisted on being the first test subject, and this was the result.

Upon insertion of the substance, Pete had experienced incredible strength, and displayed telepathic and telekinetic abilities. As an hour progressed, John tested him again, and Pete's strength and intelligence had increased yet again. Everything appeared to be going as planned

However, after a few hours, Pete had clapped his hands to his head, and began screaming, both physically and mentally. It was at this point that the part of his mind that was enabling him such abilities, the Dementia Complex, began slowly seizing control of Pete's mind and body. There were times in which he appeared to regain control, but they were brief, and the Dementia Complex quickly took over again each time.  
John could only watch in horror as his friend tore out handfuls of his own hair, slamming and clawing at the walls in torment. He tried calling out to him, even releasing a tranquilizing gas, but none of it had any affect. When the creature that was once his best friend began slamming himself against the plexiglass panel, John had only one choice.

He watched the room fill up with hydrogen cyanide, the deadliest gas known to mankind. There was enough gas in there to kill an entire room full of people. A hiss of escaping gas, and the room cleared. 

John's eyes widened in horror. Pete was still crouched in the corner, his eyes inhuman and bestial. With a hoarse shout, the creature launched himself bodily at the plexiglass panel. Spiderweb cracks appeared in the supposedly unbreakable material, and John began frantically pawing around the lab for the emergency tranquilizer gun. His wildly searching hands brushed something cold and hard. He quickly grabbed it, and loaded a dart, there were enough chemicals in here to stop a charging bull elephant, but it was too late, the glass was broken, and Pete was leaping toward him his teeth bared in a feral snarl, his mutilated hands reaching – 

A thunderous bang resounded in John's ears, and Pete's head exploded into bloody fragments. John whirled around, and beheld a two men clad in the uniform of US Marines. The weapons in their hands were definitely not regulation firearms. Each weapon's barrel was almost 2 inches in diameter, and sported laser sights in top. The men looked down grimly at John. One extended a hand. John misinterpreted it as an offer of assistance, and began to take the hand, but the marine batted his hand aside.

"The vial." He growled in a guttural voice. "Hand it over."

John looked at their guns, and then at the vial in his hand. Before he could make his decision, though, one of the men jabbed a needle into his carotid artery. His heart pumped the chemicals throughout his blood stream, shutting down nerve centers and heart activity.

Darkness followed.

****************************************                                                       

_Present Day, File Room 24a -  Police Plaza                                                        _

****************************************

Foaly the centaur yawned hugely. 

This was the fourth night in a row that Commander Root had assigned him to the gruntiest of all grunt work.

Hard copying.

Forced to wallow in primitive information storage systems, Foaly was in what could only be deemed technological hell. His finger itched for an ergonomic keyboard, a searchable database at his fingertips.  He had appealed to the commander a few times, but each time, Root's face had run the entire gamut of the visible light spectrum, and Foaly had to run the other way.

The commander, recovering from his unprecedented cardiovascular breakdown a few days before, had ordered Foaly to build a case against Mulch Diggums, and hardcopy it and give it to him. When Foaly had told him this was impossible, the commander had roared inhumanly, performed what most of the LEP staff liked to call the 'The Crimson Tide', clutched his chest, and slumped over. 

The medics chased him out of there, saying he was a hazard to Commander Root's health

The job had its perks.

He looked around, knee deep in papers.

This definitely wasn't one of them.

He thrust his hand into another pile of papers, then pulled it back, cursing.

Another paper cut for the collection. He cursed again, and shoved his finger into his mouth, sucking on it manfully.

He had better be receiving hazard pay for this.

He was interrupted from his grumbling by multiple alarms flashing on his palm-comp. He glanced tiredly at it, and his stomach lurched apprehensively. After he had wiped Artemis Fowl's memory, he had hidden specialized DNA proximity alarms all over the Fowl grounds. Whenever a fairy attempted to enter Fowl Manor, Foaly would know immediately.

He quickly entered access codes for a human satellite that was aimed in that area, and  pulled up the display screen on his monitor. He magnified the view a few thousand times, and then peered closely. Foaly almost laughed when he saw who it was.

_Root's going to need a heart transplant when he gets wind of this, _Foaly thought wickedly.

***************************************                                                   

_Christmas Day, Fowl Manor - Dublin, Ireland_                                                                                

***************************************

Butler awoke screaming.

An amused face hovered over him. It was Artemis.

"Well. _That_ was rather undignified and girly."

Butler looked embarrassed. Fortunately, Artemis did not laugh openly. Unfortunately, the Juliet and Mulch had no such inhibitions. The laughter was loud, raucous and unnecessarily mocking. Butler saw red, and began kneading his hands mightily under the bed sheets. Nobody laughed at a Butler. Thankfully, the laughter stopped before anyone lost any vital organs or limbs, and Butler's vision cleared

His eyes focused on the squat figure near the end of the bed, and abruptly sat up.

"You! You're Mulch Diggums. I tried to stop you from stealing something, but you - ….never mind."

Artemis looked pleased.  "Ah, so you remember everything now, do you? I was afraid we'd have to waste time trying to trigger your memories."

Butler started, as if he had just realized something, then attempted to hide it.

"I suppose you're wondering about my memories. You've been under for almost a day, Domovoi. Much has changed since then. Perhaps too much." Artemis fell silent, a faraway look in his eyes.

"I am…confused. My drive for riches - for gold - _Aurum Est Potestas - _is suddenly gone. I feel content. Able to make the journey my father speaks of…"

Artemis fell silent for a moment. He seemed sorrowful, yet hopeful at the same time. It was not a fitting look for features as sinister as his, and it passed quickly.

"But nonetheless, my moral state is unimportant at the moment. I need to test you for total recall…can you remember everything? Are there any blank spots?"

"No…I remember it all. Rescuing your father…this thing on my chest. The dirty thief over there blasting me full in the face with something I still don't know what is."

Mulch looked offended. "Come now, there's no need for name calling. It was just a bit of dwarf gas, no reason to get your feathers ruffled."

Artemis ignored him. "Very well…apparently Mulch's - ah - flatulence  - was able to trigger total recall."

 Juliet and Mulch burst into laugher again, Butler reddened, and Artemis reached for the tranquilizer hypodermics.

However, they were soon unnecessary, for at that moment, the door was blasted open, and Captain Holly Short of the Lower Elements police burst in, a smoking weapon in her hand. A moment later, multiple LEP Retrieval officers flew in through the windows, surrounding the group around the bed. 

Holly brandished her Neutrino. "All of you are under - grab him, Trouble!"

Mulch was attempting to slip through a hole that had suddenly appeared at his feet. Trouble launched a glowing blue substance at Mulch, where it immediately adhered to his skin and spread, rendering him immobile.

Mulch forced a few words past the substance. "Mhwut iz thish schtuff?" 

Trouble shrugged. "No idea. I asked Foaly, but when he tried to explain it, I woke up three days later with a splitting headache and a vague memory of bright colored lollipops."

"Well, it's effective," Juliet grinned as she watched Mulch's feeble attempts to escape. (Which mainly consisted of grunting inhumanly and whining)

"Welcome to Fowl Manor, Captain Short. You could have at least knocked," Artemis interrupted sarcastically.

"Ah, got your memory back, have you? No hard feelings, Artemis. There's been a Section Seven violation here, and this dwarf here is the culprit."

Mulch whined through the blue muck. "You're not even going to call me by name? That hurts, Holly. That really hurts."

"I hate a convict that gets off. Especially the way one like you did."

Mulch appeared to be trying to laugh through the blue substance, and Artemis hid a smile. After all, it had been him that had altered the records that enabled Mulch's lawyer to acquit him.

Holly seemed to be attempting restrain herself from blasting the dwarf, and growled incoherently. With a visible effort, she held her temper, and addressed the three humans. 

"Come on, you three. You'll be needing another mind wipe."

Artemis smiled, the feral look of a powerful predator. "I don't think so, Holly." 

He nodded to Butler. The manservant withdrew a tiny detonator from his pocket, extending its wire-thin antennae from a concealed berth.

"At my command, a device planted in the center of Fowl Manor will send forth three timed electromagnetic pulses, rendering all electrical devices within a one mile radius ineffective.  I'm sure Butler, even in his reduced state, could handle a few fairies."

Holly looked unworried. "Foaly disabled all of your security systems before we got here," she said glibly. "You guys are completely helpless."

Artemis had always hated centaurs.

Globs of blue gel struck Butler and Juliet in the chest. Artemis waited, but felt nothing. Holly took his arm firmly.

"That stuff is expensive…no need to waste it on you, eh, Artemis?" Holly was grinning condescendingly, apparently remembering his less than masterful physical exploits during the Artic Incident. What she didn't know was that Artemis had been training in basic self-defense under Butler for almost two years now.  His physical stature was, at fifteen years of age, not yet designed for power, but even Butler had been amazed by the strength in his lanky teenage arms. 

He waited until Holly had leaned slightly away from him, then pulled with all his might. He followed this up with a quick chop to the throat, which produced an surprised "arghk" from Holly. Trouble immediately grabbed him in a bear hug. Artemis whipped his head back, and jammed it into Trouble's face. Trouble cursed foully, and fell back. Sprites had extremely limited healing ability. He was out for the rest of the fight. Holly was already up again, a multitude of blue sparks dancing around her throat. Artemis feinted right, darted in, and - 

 - found himself staring down the barrel of a Neutrino 2000. A burst of blue gel flew out, and struck him in the chest.

Artemis last self-satisfied feeling as he was born away was a perverse pleasure that he at least warranted the blue gel.

*******************************************                               

_The Operations Booth, Haven, The Lower Elements_                                                                             

*******************************************

The glow from the plasma screen illuminated Foaly's pale skin, bleaching it to an even paler color than before. Private Chix Verbil had told him that with a carrot tied to his head, he could be mistaken for a unicorn. Foaly had laughed as if it was a particularly funny joke, then implanted a virus in Veribil's helmet system that displayed mpegs of Commander Root in a low cut latex dress instead of normal information programs. 

Chix ran screaming from Police Plaza, was struck by three speeding vehicles, and immediately placed in intensive care at Haven Medical Center.

Right next to Commander Root's bed, as it turns out.

Foaly smiled at the memory. Chix wouldn't be back for a _long_ time.

He ran a routine scan of his systems for bugs, then winced. A bruise was forming malevolently on his already less than attractive flanks. Foaly rubbed it ruefully, and winced again.

A few hours ago, he had told Commander Root the news of Mulch's illegal confrontation with Artemis Fowl. An amazing and bizarre series of events had led to Foaly's eventual injury. 

Root had reared up in his bed, clutched his chest, and turned a rather attractive shade of red. He then proceeded to grunt "Send Retrieval! Kill! Tear! Rip! Now!", and throw anything that was within reach. Foaly managed to dodge these, but a beaker had struck a medic in the small of the back, who had in turn crashed into the wall, causing a monitor to plummet from its perch in the top corner, striking another medic on the head, causing this medic to spill the vial of green liquid she was carrying into a patient's eyes, causing him to scream in pain and kick out, striking Foaly in the rump.

He longed very much to gripe at something for giving him the bruise, but he wasn't sure whether to blame the monitor, Root, the medic, the wall, the other medic, the green liquid, the patient, or the beaker. He settled for griping at all eight of them, and ran another perimeter scan of the Lower Elements, typing commands extremely bad naturedly. 

"FOALY!"

The centaur almost fell off his chair. An amazing feat, as the centaur had four feet with which to keep his balance. The voice belonged to Captain Spruce of the Tara element of the LEP. Spruce was part of Foaly's special patrol that flew among the Mud People and collected intelligence on Mud Men technology. They had been handpicked by Foaly to be the best, thus they hardly ever contacted him for help.

"There's been a capture of a LEPRecon officer."

Foaly frowned. "But we have Artemis Fowl in custody - Holly's bringing him back to base right now."

"It's not Fowl, Foaly. It's a different Mud Man. He saw right through our shield. Goldleaf is dead. They shot him in the head. They took Twig alive. I'm heading towards the shuttle port right now, but they're right behind me."

Foaly was struck senseless, his mind reeling with the news. An LEP officer - dead. Another - captured. Events were rapidly turning from desperate to catastrophic.. He spoke into the mike.

"They're behind you? Just fly faster!"

"Can't. They clipped a wingtip…I'm barely staring afloat as it is. D'arvit! They're close. I'm not going to make it, Foaly. Relay this message to the commander: The Mud People - a British billionaire - have some sort of intelligence enhancer drug that allows them to see through our shields. This one seemed to know - D'arvit!"

A gunshot sounded, and a sickening thud was relayed through the mike.  "Spruce!"

"Tell…the commander…."

"Spruce! What did he know? Who is he? Does he know about us?"

A last gasp of pain was transmitted, and then the mike went silent.

Even though the situation was urgent, Foaly took a few minutes to say last rites for the fairy. Fairies live unusually long lives, and the passing of one so soon and so cruelly was a terrible fate for any fairy. His rites said, Foaly quickly spun into action. He ran a search on any new developments in the Mud People's scientific community, and came up empty. He then tried searching for a British billionaire, and came up with only one name. Charles Tyr. The name sent shivers of apprehension down his spine. This was a bad omen. Fairy intuition was never wrong.

His hearts turned over in his chest. This was a threat unlike any the LEP had faced before - even of more solemnity than the Fowl incident. 

The Fairy people would need the help of all of their allies to defeat this new enemy. Especially that of a certain fifteen-year-old individual who was currently en route to a full mind wipe.

He thought quickly. Artemis was currently on a shuttle in the Tara chute. If Holly decided to perform the mind wipe early, everything would be lost. He couldn't contact anybody riding the flares, even with his communications gear. He would have disable the memory wipe technology in the shuttle, but that wasn't possible from here, either. He cursed inwardly. He would have to do this manually.

He sped off as quickly as his hooves would carry him.

***************************

So! How was it? Any little quibble you can think of, tell me. Er…and that's about it.

Oh yeah, and what is everybody's favorite fic? I've been looking for some good AF fanfiction to read around here, but everything I've chosen seems to be mary sueish, or romance.(I've just got this thing against any romance with Artemis in it - he just isn't the type to be like that, you know?) But if it's good enough I'll read it. Any suggestions?

Oh, if Artemis's self defense training threw you off a bit, look at The Arctic Incident. He is nothing if not logical, and since he's going to be in these action situations, he actually said that he was going to 'buy one of the ridiculous home gyms they advertised on TV"…so yeah. Take that! Nyeah!


	3. Chapter Three a bunch of stuff happens,...

************************************

_Warehouse 9, the West End, Haven_

************************************__

"Corporal Newt. Status check."

"Specify, Captain."

"Check nine."

"Negative, sir. Go fish."

"Damn." Captain Cirrus Gerdhart, formerly of the LEPRetrieval strike force, took another card from the deck. 

_Man, a few drops of Dwarf whiskey, a couple flattened goblins, a council member violated, a shaved cave troll, a leveled city block, and everybody goes wild, _Cirrus thought peevishly.

Cirrus Gerdhart's story was famous within the inner circles of the LEP. He was once the most famed officer the LEP had ever seen, his resourcefulness rivaling that of the equally famous Captain Holly Short. The majority of the training videos at the Academy featured him as the demonstrator. The instructors there still told the story of how he had escaped from a Bwa'Kell Goblin hideout with nothing but a pen and a broken toothbrush. It was nothing spectacular, really. All he had done was pointed in a direction, shouted "Look! A _diversion_!", and ran the opposite direction. The pen had just happened to be in his pocket, and he had tripped over the toothbrush on the way out. 

Not his most impressive accomplishment, Cirrus thought later, but still impressive if told with the correct embellishments.

It was just after this escape from the Bwa'Kell goblin hideout that the events leading his downfall occurred. He had just briefed Root on his mission, and headed out to the local bar, the Drunken Dwarf Dwelling with a few of his buddies to celebrate. Unfortunately, Corporal Newt had chosen this night to tag along, and challenge Cirrus to a drinking game. Cirrus, already quite tipsy, foolishly accepted. He lost horribly and went out on the town to vent his sorrow.

The rest, of course, is history.

A violated Council Member, three crushed goblins, a flattened city block, and a shaved cave troll later, Cirrus was demoted quite spectacularly. 

Now, instead of glory, firefights, and setting pod records, he was reduced to this.

Warehouse stakeout. They didn't mention this in the job description. Quite possibly the most dull job in the entirety of the LEP workforce. So dull, in fact, the Cirrus would almost welcome a goblin gang, or a dwarf crew, anything that would dull the edge of his boredom.

There is an old adage among fairies. 'Be careful what you wish for'. The tale behind it involves a young sprite, and a giant hunk of gold. It's quite simple. The sprite wished for gold, and received it - particularly in the cranial area. 

Unfortunately, this was not a well-known adage, and of course, Cirrus was completely unaware of it.

In the back of the warehouse, hidden shadows shifted ominously.

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_A week  earlier, Tyr Castle, Great Britain_

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Charles Tyr was rich. Filthy, filthy rich. So rich, that it almost disgusted him at times. 

Almost.

But it wasn't enough. It never was, for a man like him. Charles wanted more. Much, much more. And after that?

He wanted a little more.

It was this drive that had spurred his decision to steal Manson Technology's latest invention. It had no name, simply a product number, and a tremendous result. Charles owned several biotechnology corporations. A little industrial espionage, a coupled strings pulled, and the substance was his, chilling in his lab downstairs. 

His lab was his pride and joy. With prototype technology stolen and patented from all over the world, its technological advancement was without equal. Even its staff was the best. Jeffrey Lions, who was a former GE biotechnology researcher, was currently analyzing the properties of the stolen substance. 

It was this man that occupied most of Charles' thoughts as he made his way down to the lab. 

Jeffrey Lions seemed an enigma to him. When Charles had been developing his lab, he had cast out lines far and wide for the most experienced scientists around. Lions, the man he had most hoped to snare, had refused, despite offers of a doubled salary, and benefits that normal men only dreamed of.  Charles had offered and offered again, sending numerous agents, and even appeared in person once. Lions had quietly, but firmly refused each time, asserting that he was happy where he was.

Charles, uncharacteristically, had given up.

There was just something about the man. Jeffrey Lions was not physically imposing, by any means. He stood well under six feet, balding, bespectacled, slightly to fat. The assured, confident expression in his quiet brown eyes inspired respect - even in a man like Charles Tyr.

However, a month after the offers had stopped, Jeffrey had approached Charles, and asked for the job. Charles had given it to him, mostly because he was tired of the bumbling fool who he had given the position. He had never asked why Jeffrey changed his mind. Charles knew how such things were - he had been in the business too long not to. 

But now, six years later, Charles had begun to wonder why. 

The lab's reinforced door loomed before him, and he shook such thoughts from his mind, humming tonelessly as his security systems scanned his entire body to confirm his identity and check for bugs. A musical tone sounded, and Charles strode through the door to his lab. Jeffrey was the first person he saw, performing some obscure lab duty that Charles couldn't even begin to fathom. 

"Well?"

Jeffrey looked up, his normally calm face lit with excitement. "It does everything you said it would, Charles. We've been testing it on various animals…increasing strength, increasing intelligence - even after stopping the dosage."

Charles's insides soared with triumph, but he kept calm. "Have you been able to duplicate it?"

Jeffrey shrugged. "Well…that's a problem. It's got some incredibly exotic compounds…there's even a few traces of Sodium Methane thirty-four. That's only found in the stomach of a few species of Howler monkeys in the Amazon. It's going to take us a while to get all of these ingredients, but it's only a matter of time. We'll have it soon."

"What about human testing?"

"Well…we haven't tried it, yet. You had said - "

"I know what I said, Jeff. I mean it, too."

There was a moment of tense silence, and Jeffrey shifted nervously. 

"Well. Is it ready?"

"There's no way of knowing. Especially if you're to be the first test."

A hint of ire appeared in Charles's suddenly cold green eyes. The man was purposefully provoking him. And it was working.

"Damn it, Lions. I don't want some poncefooted theory, I want an honest assessment. Is it ready?"

Jeffrey nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes unreadable.

Without another word, Charles took the vial and strode out.

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_en route to the Tara chute, Lower Elements_

_**************************************_

Centaurs, Foaly had decided as he ran/staggered to his rusted transport, were not creatures of action. Years of vegetating in front of multiple computer screens had caused severe atrophy in the muscles of his legs. Running had become a thing of the past. What he was doing could only be described as a hopping walk, which drew amused hoots of laughter from passing fairies.  

Foaly could only pout and mark their names down on his virus hit list. 

He yanked open the hatch of his Legacy 240 vehicle, wincing at the earsplitting keening that resulted. Rust fell in crimson showers. Grumbling disgruntledly, he climbed in.

The Tara shuttle port was only a few kilometers away. If he could beat rush hours he could - 

Do nothing, as his car wouldn't start. 

Foaly looked fantastically disgusted for a minute, then radioed in for a hovercraft. 

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_The Horatio, Tara Chute, same time_

_****************************************_

Holly looked hopelessly depressed and sad. 

Then again, so did the rest of the agents.

Juliet Butler had somehow managed to obtain an MP3 player, and was now singing along to Insync with a catlike voice.

Catlike, as in like a dying, yowling, cat.

The ride had been hell.

Artemis and Butler were conferring casually, obviously accustomed to Juliet's ululations. They looked a bit grim. Their chances for escape were slim to none. While Juliet was doing her best to distract them with her voice, they had explored the ship furtively, and found nothing. Surrounded by heavily armed LEP officers, their only fairy ally still encased in blue gel, Artemis Fowl was forced to do something he had never had to do before. 

Submit to his fate.

At that moment, Juliet attempted to hit a high note three times in quick succession. Corporal Grub began weeping, and Juliet mistook it to mean her song had moved him to tears, and sang even louder.

Holly's eyes widened insanely. Trouble understood immediately, got out of the way, and took the joystick. She walked casually toward the mind wipe technology, and began gamely tugging it toward Juliet. Artemis took it upon himself to intervene. 

"You do realize, Holly, that even if you erase her memory of the fairies, she will continue to sing?"

"Maybe so, Mud Boy, but I can at least knock her out with this heavy equipment."

At that moment, Captain Trouble interrupted.

"It's Foaly. He says he's got urgent news." 

Holly looked at Trouble, then Juliet, who had not noticed anything and was still howling along to the music. She reluctantly threw down the equipment, and stomped into the cockpit.

"Holly!" Foaly's voice, high with urgency came through.

Holly resisted an urge to comment, and grabbed the mike. "Foaly? What's wrong?"

"It's bad, Holly. It really is." For once, Foaly's voice was devoid of sarcasm.

"Lieutenant Twig's been captured by a Mud Man. Spruce and Goldleaf have been killed."

Someone in the cockpit drew in their breath girlishly. Afterwards, Captain Trouble looked extremely embarrassed.

Holly's voice was tense "Who did this?"

"A British billionaire named Charles Tyr…I'll tell you more at headquarters. Just don't mind wipe Artemis."

Holly looked sidelong at Artemis. Artemis tactfully stepped behind Butler.

 "Why not?"

"I've got a few questions for him. Root's back tomorrow. He's going to blow an artery when he hears about this." Foaly cackled for quite a while.

Holly rolled her eyes. That was the Foaly she knew. "Right, Foaly. We'll be there in 5."

Trouble spoke up, his voice a little uncertain. "But we're not even a quarter of the way there…"

Holly smiled, showing teeth.. "I know," she said casually, and shoved the throttle forward much harder than necessary.

If the citizens of Haven had listened carefully, they could have heard Corporal Grub's frightened scream echoing down the tunnel.

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_Five minutes later, Warehouse 9, The West End_

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Cirrus Gerdhart had just lost his fifth round of Go Fish when they were attacked. 

Giant shapes leapt from atop and behind crates and shelves, quickly surrounding the hapless pair. They held ancient projectile weapons, and Cirrus's veins turned to ice. 

Mud Men.

His mind whirled at the enormity of the situation. These were trained Mud Men. In the Lower Elements, in numbers of force. This was no slight breach of security - this was a full-blown attack. 

He had to tell headquarters.

He let his hand drift to his side, and flipped his power setting to lethal. He saw Newt out of the corner of his eye do the same. He considered the mesmer, but the Mud Men's eyes were all protected with mirrored glasses. 

_How could they - ?_

No time for that, he thought.  He had only one option left. 

Suddenly, Newt shouted "Now!"

The two sprites flickered out of sight. Newt shot toward the door, but a mass of Mud Men blocked his way. Newt swerved left, and hovered, bringing his weapon to bear. The Mud Men's heads turned to follow him as if they could see him. Some of the Mud men even raised weapons to aim, but that was impossible, Newt was invisible, vibrating at too high of a frequency to be - 

A shot rang out, and Newt slumped to the floor.

Cirrus turned away, his features ravaged. A wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm him - horror, grief, fear, all washing over him like a wave of icy water. His instincts soon took over, and he shook himself out of it.

This was no time for grief. He shot into an evasion pattern across the room, moving as quickly as possible. So they could beat the shield…

They would have to catch him first.

He zipped around the room like a ricocheting bullet, radioing in his status to headquarters, flinching as bullets grazed his wing. He finished the message, and grunted as another bullet grazed by, nearly severing his pinky finger.

He paused behind a stack of crates, his narrow frame heaving painfully. Blood pounded through his ears, drowning out any half-cocked plan he could think of. He looked around, and his heart stopped in his chest. There was a hole in the warehouse wall behind him. Perhaps - 

He dodged as a bullet whizzed by, pinging against a shelf. 

Perhaps it was better this way. His life had been meaningful. But what was there left for him to go home to? A seedy apartment, a dead end assignment? No. He preferred this - going down in a blaze of glory in the heat of battle. He was an LEP officer, god damn it, and he was going to die doing what he had been trained to do.

He had no disillusions about his chances. He checked the setting of his weapon, and smiled fiercely. 

The crates he was hidden behind were abruptly kicked away, and Cirrus rolled aside. He quickly flipped the setting on his helmet to Anti-UV, and tossed a flash grenade towards the Mud Men. A blinding light ensued from it, and the Mud Men were momentarily blinded.

He whipped out his Neutrino, and fired into the mass of Mud Men until he could feel no more.

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So what did everybody think?

Yeah… I really haven't been getting many reviews…Ah, it doesn't matter. At least the people who reviewed liked it.=D

Btw, is anybody disturbed by the fact the fairies are dying? I wouldn't normally do this, but if fairies die, it makes the situation seem more realistic and dangerous, you know?


End file.
